


Christmas Comes Unexpected

by selyndae



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-10
Updated: 2013-12-10
Packaged: 2018-01-04 07:18:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1078144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selyndae/pseuds/selyndae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompts: A story about candy canes, holly berries, not being able to sleep, and a Christmas wish that comes true.</p>
<p>Sometimes a second chance does come along...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Comes Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spikesgirl58](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/gifts).



_Mid-December, 1952_

Slumped dejectedly next to the tiny, barred window, Johnny Murphy stared out at the cold, smog-filled night and scowled at the barren yard. Surrounded by towering walls of harsh, grey cinderblock complete with coils of ugly barbed wire, sharp metal peeked menacingly through the wispy tendrils of the swirling vapor like an obscene decoration. The depressing reality of his situation could now be summed up by a 6-by-6 cell and a peek into a miserable countryside.

_There was no way out—no way out at all_ , and he may as well get used to it. Blinking rapidly and clenching his jaw, he continued to look out into the bleak surroundings.

Suddenly, through a break in the dense vapor, past the prison walls, maybe 100 meters or so away, a house lit up in the distance. It stood tall among the row of houses, most of which were sagging and dilapidated in the rundown neighborhood. 

He stared, transfixed as it glowed radiantly…like a warm, welcoming beacon. 

Cheerful lights of red, yellow, blue and green outlined the large front window and door, and they were just bright enough to show off the enormous holly wreath which sprawled over the entryway. He could easily imagine the brilliant red berries glistening in the multi-colored reflections. 

This festive brightness, alive with cheer, was a mocking contrast to his despair. Unable to tear his eyes away, he gazed longingly at the idyllic scene as it gradually pulled forth unwanted memories from his all-too brief childhood. 

 

They were poor but it didn’t really matter; everyone in the neighborhood was poor. His Da worked late at the shipyards sometimes not coming home all week. But, when he _was_ home, Mum would laugh and sing. And when Christmas came—well, everything was magical!

He and his sister would lay in bed unable to sleep with all the excitement. Even through the War, with its strict rationing, Mum always managed to save enough to make Gran’s wonderful Christmas cake. One year, she’d even made peppermint sweets shaped like tiny candy canes. They may have been uneven, and the red stripes more of a pink than red, but the love that went into them made them perfect. He could still remember how they tasted…

Impatiently, he tried to push those thoughts away. It hurt too much to think of those times; remembering them always led up to the horrible Christmas when his Da—

 

_Wham!_

The sharp clang of a nightstick against the bars brought him back to the present.

“You got a visitor, Murphy, back up!”

Johnny backed up against the wall and the cell door was unlocked. Huge hands spun him around roughly before cuffs were impatiently snapped on his wrists. Satisfied they were snug enough, the guard led his prisoner down the hall and into a small room, where, a short nod from the burly visitor in a tan overcoat ordered the cuffs undone.

“Thirty minutes,” growled the guard, and then he was alone on his side of the tiny visitor’s room.

Looking up, he stared at the man. _Detective Sergeant…Truman?_

“Why are _you_ here?” Johnny’s tone was sullen, but still with a bit of swagger.

The tall man studied the prisoner appraisingly. In the ten days he’d been locked up, all color was gone from the already pale face. He’d also lost weight—something young Murphy could not really afford; he’d always been far too thin. The boy (Jack had trouble thinking of the 15-year-old as anything other than a boy) looked more child than tough gang member with his too-long, unruly blond hair hanging down over his eyes. Now those once-bright eyes were listless; sunken, with black smudges beneath. Clad in oversized prison garb, he looked delicate…even frail.

“Who else do you expect? Cathie? Maybe one of the twins?

Johnny paled even further at that and sagged defeated, his bluster fading. “No,” he muttered, “They shouldn’t hafta see me in here.”

Jack studied the boy as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Ignoring the boy’s flash of desire and moistened lips, he lit up and smoked thoughtfully. Prison was harsh, and staying locked up for the next twenty-five to life would surely make this kid into a hardened criminal—if he even lived.

“Look, I got a proposition for you, Murphy. It’ll be hard and it’ll be dangerous. But, it’s a way out of this mess you got yourself into.”

“Why should _you_ help me? What’s the catch?”

The detective smiled faintly. “You know I’m in love with Cathie, and as soon as I can swing it, we’re going to marry. She deserves having someone take care of _her_ for a change.”

“Yeah…? What about the kiddies, then?”

“I’m going to take care of them as well. I know a nice boarding school where they can get a fresh start.”

“That’s right, ship ‘em off so you can forget all about ‘em!”

“If you used that brain of yours for a change, you’d know that’s not true. Why, I love Mary and Patrick almost as if they’re my own. Sending them off to a decent school will give them a real chance away from those gangs. They _need_ that new start.”

“Sure…” Johnny’s nervous energy had him clasping and unclasping his hands as he paced the small room. “What about Cathie, then? Is she going to go away for a new start, too?”

Jack didn’t answer as he stubbed out his cigarette. “We’re talking about _you_ , Johnny. What about _your_ future?”

“Yeah, what about it? I did wrong, okay… Look, I know got no future, so go ahead and take the kiddies away— Just…just go an’ give ‘em their…chance—” He stopped abruptly and turned around, his back to the detective. This close to tears, he couldn’t let anyone see.

“Turn around and listen to me.” When there was no immediate response, Truman’s tone got harsher, “I _said_ ,” the detective slapped his hand against the wall. “Listen for a change! Or do you really _want_ to spend the rest of your life in prison?” 

Eyes bright with unshed tears, Johnny turned back around, eyes lowered, and stared down at his feet. Swallowing hard, he finally looked back up at the detective daring him to make some remark.

“Okay, then, here’s a real chance to make something decent of yourself. Look, I’ve called in some favors and here’s what we can offer.”

“Yeah? Who’s this we?”

“Let’s just say it’s a rather…unusual organization. If things work out you’ll meet them. Now, we don’t have much time so shut your trap and listen. Sit down.”

“I’m listening.” Johnny sat down defiantly in his own chair

“Okay, here’s the scoop...” he pulled a small notebook out from a breast pocket and flipped it open. “You’re fast— _really_ fast, and you should’ve gone out for track. Also, you’ve got a real knack for languages. At least, that’s what Father Dominick says. Even more important, I’m told you got the right ‘look’ for what they have in mind.” He paused. “A boy was slated to be on loan to the States in some kind of new exchange program. Some other country is involved with it—I don’t know which one and I don’t want to know. Anyway, uh, something…happened, and they need a replacement. They want you to take his place and _become_ this person.”

Bemused by the astonishing offer, Johnny sat motionless.

“I’m not going to lie to you; it’s going to be tough. This’ll be the hardest thing you’ve ever done in your whole life. You’ll be cold and you’ll be hungry. You’ll be watched every minute and tested constantly. To come out of this alive you’ll have to be one of the best. 

“But, if you do it right, your record goes away and you get your new start. Even get to see the world.

The detective studied the boy carefully. What he saw apparently satisfied him as he continued to urge him to accept the extraordinary proposal. “Look, this is your one chance to make it out of this mess and start over.” Jack’s eyes softened, “The only thing is…you can never come back; Johnny Murphy will have to die.”

“What will you tell Cathie? W-will she know?”

“No one will know. Not even me. At least, I won’t know your new identity, or even know where you’re going. Like I said, as far as the world is concerned, Johnny Murphy will be dead.” 

He finally offered a cigarette. After lighting it and handing it through the bars, he looked kindly at the boy. “I know it seems like a lot, but it’s your only way out. Take the offer, son. It’s either that or prison for a long, long time—probably the rest of your life.”

Johnny’s bright blue eyes grew distant as he smoked, the caged clock ticking sonorously in the silence.

“Look, Johnny, the guard will be back any minute now—what’s your answer?”

“Sure…” He stubbed out the cigarette. “Yeah, I’ll do it….”

 

_Present day_

“Illya? Illya!” 

“What?” Caught up in the oddly-disquieting surroundings, Illya felt a sense of…déjà vu. Maintaining hyper vigilance was his way of coping with uneasy situations. Unfortunately this meant temporarily ignoring what he _knew_ to be safe…like Napoleon.

“Where were you just now?”

“Maintaining a careful watch for our contact—who is late, by the way.”

“Only a minute or so… Come on, what was so interesting?”

“Just fascinated by the capitalistically profligate display of over-lavish decorations.”

Napoleon shot a skeptical look at his partner. “Sure you are.” He glanced around, but all he could see was a row of houses in a less-than-elegant neighborhood. While a few were decorated with old-fashioned light bulbs outlining windows and doors, there was nothing too notable or excessive. In the distance he could just make out piles of rubble from a demolished structure. 

Before he could figure out what his enigmatic partner was really thinking, their contact finally showed up.

“Jeez, it’s cold out,” muttered the man bundled under a threadbare jacket and tattered muffler.

“Ah, but look at all the happy faces,” answered Solo cheerfully.

A bushy eyebrow, barely visible under the shabby stocking cap was raised. Shoving his hands deeper into his pockets, the vagrant gave the countersign. “Sweets are warmer in June.” A gnarled hand slipped out surreptitiously holding a small, misshapen candy cane. 

Taking the small object, Napoleon weighed it appraisingly for a moment before handing it over to his partner who narrowed his eyes at the innocuous sweet. A quick check revealed the tiny catch which, when opened, revealed a microdot. He removed the dot before slipping the now-closed vessel into his pocket. A short nod and Solo discreetly handed over a wallet to the contact who hastily slipped it inside the folds of his jacket. 

Touching a hand to his forehead in mock salute he gave a crooked smile showing uneven yellow teeth.

“Thanks mate. Happy Christmas.”

As the man scuttled away, Napoleon glanced over at his partner and caught the faintest glimpse of something…odd, flit across his face.

“We should go.” Illya’s voice was bland, but to one who knew him so well, there was something…off.

Still…the neighborhood was pretty deserted. _And_ they had to get that microdot delivered.

As they walked out of the impoverished neighborhood he moved a bit closer to his partner. The surrounding area looked to be completely deserted now that the vagrant had disappeared into the shadows as he slipped his hand out of his pocket and gave Illya a squeeze on the arm.

“We’re in public.”

“No one’s around.”

A confirming glance, verifying. “Nevertheless, we are _still_ on assignment.”

They reached the borrowed car and headed for the pub inside Bristol where they could pass on the microdot. 

Napoleon grinned as his partner hopped out and, pulling on a soft, tweed cap, slouched casually before sauntering into the small pub. As he waited for Illya to return he activated his communicator. “Open Channel D.”

“Your report, Mr. Solo.”

“Contact made, Sir. You can turn on the tracer.”

“Ah, yes, the signal’s coming in… What of the microdot?”

“Illya’s making the delivery now.” He glanced up to see his partner exiting the pub, thumb touching forefinger in the ‘okay’ sign. “You should receive confirmation any time now.”

“Excellent.” A short pause. “The microdot has arrived.” There was another pause and a rustle. “Things are rather quiet at the moment. You and Mr. Kuryakin can delay your return until after the holidays.”

A delighted smile. “Thank you, Sir.”

 

Rather than staying in Bristol, they opted for one of the smaller towns where they could relax, away from the mainstream commercial bustle of the holiday. The quaint bed and breakfast they’d chosen had come highly recommended and was as private and comfortable as promised.

As they lay together in bed after a rousing ‘opening of presents’ Napoleon cuddled with his lover.

“So, Mr. Kuryakin, have you been a good boy this year?” Napoleon’s whisper tickled and Illya shivered in response. 

“I am never a good boy as you should know.”

“Oh, I don’t know… you’re really quite good at—”

Shutting him up with a kiss Illya used a free hand to purposefully fondle his partner, turning the conversation into a different, more agreeable direction.

Napoleon almost purred with delight. It had been years before they’d finally reached this point of complete trust up to, and into this new relationship. 

Remembering the oddness of the past mission, and most especially the peculiar expression on his partner’s face, he made a face and sighed.

“What?”

Napoleon shifted until he had his partner comfortably held in his arms. “What was bothering you earlier? At the hand-off?”

Illya hesitated before smirking, “Nothing important...” His grin turned sly, “Would you rather discuss the unimportant or shall we move on to...this?” His free hand, which had been stroking his partner’s back began to slip downward.

 

Hours later, after a brief nap, Illya lay back and glanced over at the contents from his pocket piled neatly on the dresser. A faint smile played about his lips as his eye rested upon the misshapen candy cane. Distant memories of things he’d long ago believed buried and forgotten had emerged. 

Perhaps that was why, when the assignment had been completed, and Napoleon was getting tickets for the train, he’d been…primed. 

_Cathie…? No… this must be Mary._

The shock of recognition from seeing the ticket clerk, who was the very image of Cathie when he’d last seen her, was completely unforeseen. As Napoleon chatted with the girl, he subtly moved away from the immediate area, out of line of sight, and shamelessly stood eavesdropping in the shadows as she cheerfully prattled about how she was going to finally see her brother again. 

_He’s coming home on his first leave since enlisting in the air force_ —gave him the needed time to recover from the unexpected meeting. _We’ve missed him so much—he’s my twin, you see_. She chatted artlessly to Napoleon’s silver-tongued flirtation and genuine interest (which eventually got their tickets upgraded without charge). 

Once aboard the train and settled in their compartment, Illya took a long, considering look out the window until he spotted the girl again. This time she was out on the platform standing alongside her older sister who was carrying a toddler. Her brother-in-law had an arm protectively around an older child’s shoulders as they stood together waiting on the platform… There—a young man in uniform finally came off the train and into their waiting arms as fervent hugs and delighted smiles from the entire group welcomed him warmly.

The memory was interrupted as an arm languidly reached over and gave an affectionate squeeze. Receiving a quick yet thorough kiss, Illya sighed with contentment.

Hokey? Perhaps…but it was a long-ago, forgotten Christmas Wish come true. 

Turning over, he beamed, giving a particularly sweet, replete smile to his partner. 

Oh, yes! And an up-to-date Christmas Wish as well…

**Author's Note:**

> _Author’s note: Johnny Murphy was played by a young DMc in the movie, The Violent Playground._


End file.
